


Brendon Urie's Excellent Adventure

by sevenfists



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-02
Updated: 2008-03-02
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: Probably it was Ryan's fault; Brendon wasn't really sure how, but most of the bad things that happened to him ended up being linked to Ross and his diabolical mind, so it wasn't like it was a bad guess.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was reading [this fan report](http://sateenmusta.livejournal.com/53184.html?style=mine) and then something went horribly awry inside my brain. I don't even have an excuse for how dumb this story is. I'm so sorry.

Probably it was Ryan's fault; Brendon wasn't really sure _how_ , but most of the bad things that happened to him ended up being linked to Ross and his diabolical mind, so it wasn't like it was a bad guess. Plus Ryan had been going on and on about the new hair stuff that he bought, and Spencer had been arguing with him about it and saying his hair was fine without putting goop in it, and Brendon listened to them and looked at Spencer's shiny hair and agreed with him, and maybe he wanted to get closer and touch Spencer's hair, because it was shiny and also looked like it would feel really soft.

So maybe it was Spencer's fault for having such nice hair and smelling good and playing Guitar Hero with Brendon all the time. Brendon didn't really care whose fault it was, though, because spreading blame around didn't change the fact that he'd woken up that morning and hadn't been able to move or talk. He didn't get to drink his habitual mug of tea or steal Spencer's cereal. It was a tragedy.

He was on the sofa in the lounge where he'd fallen asleep the night before; he could see a pair of Jon's flip-flops and a few empty cans of Red Bull. Ryan and Jon were in the kitchen, making toast and debating the merits of fuzzy versus silky scarves. Brendon couldn't figure out why they weren't helping him—he was lying there _motionless_ and _not speaking_! They should know by now that those were signs that something was Seriously Wrong with Brendon.

"Has anybody seen my hair straightener?" Spencer asked, shuffling into the lounge in his pajama pants. He looked sleepy and rumpled and probably he was warm. Brendon wanted to snuggle.

"Dunno," Jon said.

"I thought you didn't need goop to make your hair look good," Ryan said.

"It's a flat-iron, it's not _goop_ ," Spencer said. "Can I have the rest of your muffin?" He took it off Ryan's plate without waiting for a response. Brendon would have giggled if he could make noises. Ryan acted like any muffin within a three-mile radius was his own personal property, and god help anyone who tried to touch and/or eat one. Spencer was the only person who could get away with it.

Spencer wandered over toward where Brendon was lying. He had muffin crumbs caught in his beard. Brendon tried to look as helpless and pathetic as possible, because Spencer had a gooey oatmeal cream pie where most people had hearts and even if Jon and Ryan were being uncaring bastards, Spencer would totally notice Brendon's plight and help him. Probably.

Instead, Spencer said, "Oh, _here_ it is," and leaned down and grasped Brendon firmly about his middle. "This is a terrible hiding place, Ryan."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I didn't _hide_ it from you," he said. "You just leave your crap lying all over the place." He lifted his cereal bowl to his mouth and drank the leftover milk out of it.

"At least I'm not unfit for human company until after my third cup of coffee, like some people I know," Spencer said.

"Ooh, _burn_ ," Jon said.

"Uh-huh," Spencer said. "I'm gonna go make myself pretty now." He headed toward the back of the bus, still holding Brendon, and shut himself into the bathroom. Brendon was pretty sure that if he still had hands, his palms would be sweating. He was in the Cave of Mysteries: Spencer's beauty parlor. Spencer was really fussy about letting other people see him get ready, and only liked to do it behind closed doors, and needed privacy and lots of time. And if Spencer had brought Brendon with him, that meant—it meant he was—  
  
That was the moment when Brendon realized he had somehow turned into Spencer's flat-iron.

***

If Brendon were in a movie he would find some really clever way of communicating with Spencer, like maybe burning "HELP" into the sink vanity when Spencer left him lying there, but since it was real life and he was an inanimate object he was pretty much out of luck. He concentrated really hard on focusing his mental energies on an SOS signal, but from the way Spencer kept humming and rubbing lotion on his neck, it wasn't working.

He wondered if he'd spend the rest of the tour tucked away in Spencer's toiletry case. It was a depressing thought. Maybe the other guys would decide he had been eaten by rabid dogs and they'd steal Patrick away and make him be their new frontman, and soon the world would forget that Brendon Urie ever existed. When they did the Panic episode of "Behind the Music," they would barely even mention Brendon's name. He would be a footnote. He'd be like _Brent_.

Somebody knocked on the door. "Spence? We've got an interview in like, half an hour." It sounded like Ryan—less surly now that he'd gotten his coffee.

"I'll be done in a couple minutes," Spencer said. "Have you seen Brendon?"

Yes! Brendon tried to shout. I'm right here! Look! Lying here on the counter!

"I thought he went out to get food or something," Ryan said. "You haven't seen him?"

"No," Spencer said. He chewed on his lip. "I'm sure he'll show up, though, I mean. He wouldn't. It's _Brendon_."

"Yeah," Ryan said. "You're probably right. Anyway, half an hour."

Spencer finished fluffing his hair and started shoving things into his girly flowered toiletry bag. Brendon was the last to go in, tucked carefully on top, and then the zipper closed and everything went dark. It sucked. Brendon was kind of still scared of the dark, but not as scared as Jon, that pussy. By all rights he shouldn't be able to see right now _anyway_ ; it wasn't like most straightening irons had eyes; but being stuck there in the dark, jockeying for space with Spencer's fancy pomades or whatever the fuck, Brendon didn't care if he was violating all the major laws of physics, he just wanted to be able to see. Maybe he could manage to burn a hole through the case and then Spencer would _have_ to take him out.

He heard the door open, and footsteps, and then he was bouncing around, probably being tossed onto Spencer's bed. He heard voices from toward the front of the bus, and then a door opened and Jon said, "Seriously, we can't find him anywhere."

"He'll show up," Spencer said.

"Yeah, well, we've got to get in the car in five minutes, and Zack's freaking out, so." Jon's flip-flops made their flip-flop noise. "Do you think he—"

" _No_ ," Spencer said. "Brendon wouldn't do this, he's—there's something wrong. He wouldn't just disappear like this unless he. I don't know."

"What, you think somebody kidnapped him or something? That'd be kind of cool, maybe we'd get to pay ransom," Jon said.

"It isn't _funny_ ," Spencer snapped. "He could be in trouble and you're making _jokes_ —"

"Wow, dude, okay, calm down," Jon said. "I'll go tell Zack to put out an APB, he'll make the tech guys go around and look."

"Fuck the tech guys, _we're_ going," Spencer said.

"We've got an interview," Jon said.

"I don't care about the interview," Spencer said.

Brendon was pretty impressed. Spencer had basically created his own religion centered around never being late for anything or missing appointments or doing anything that would potentially let down or disappoint other people, so for him to be talking about skipping out on the interview was equivalent to Ryan, like, deciding that it was a bad idea to wear women's clothing. Or a huge earthquake or something. Something monumental.

"We're going," Ryan said, and Brendon wondered how long he'd been there. "If Brendon's been dragged off by hormonal teenagers, it's not going to make a difference whether we find him now or in forty-five minutes once we're done."

"You're not funny," Spencer said.

"It's kind of funny," Ryan said. "Look, I'm sure he's fine, maybe he just fell asleep somewhere, you know he hasn't been sleeping well lately. He'll be here when we get back and then you can yell at him for giving you your first gray hair."

"Shut up, I don't have gray hair," Spencer said.

"Whatever you say, old man," Jon said, and Ryan laughed, and then Brendon heard footsteps and the sound of the bus door opening and then sliding shut again.

It was really quiet.

***

It took a freaking _hour_ for the other guys to get back, and by that time Brendon had already figured out the chorus for the new song they were working on, counted to a thousand in Spanish, and invented an awesome rumor about Pete that he was going to spread around the label, like, if he ever turned back into a person. He really didn't want to be a straight-iron forever. Except maybe he'd live forever, since he was made out of metal and plastic, and that shit didn't even decompose so maybe he'd be around to see Judgment Day. Not that he believed in that stuff anymore. Sometimes it was just nice to think that there was somebody looking after you, even if they were all angry and vindictive and made you burn your house down if it got mold in it.

Dear God, Brendon prayed, please turn me back into a person so I don't have to be Spencer's flat-iron forever, even though I only believe in you about 65% of the time and like to have sex with boys, amen.

The bus door whooshed open at long last and he heard voices and people moving around in the front lounge, and then footsteps, and then Spencer saying, "He wouldn't do this, you _know_ he wouldn't."

"We're talking about the guy who, just last week, vanished for two hours in the middle of the day because one of the techs told him about a petting zoo," Zack said.

Brendon remembered that petting zoo: it had been _awesome_. Jon made fun of him all night, but then Brendon had pointed out that Jon couldn't really talk because he was always making Cassie put Dylan and Clover on the phone, and seriously, at least Brendon wasn't so lame that he thought his pet cats could actually understand what he was saying. Brendon liked hanging out with goats, there was nothing wrong with that. They made funny noises and sometimes they bit people. Brendon thought they were probably his favorite animal.

"He was back in time for sound check," Spencer said. "And petting zoos are _awesome_."

Zack sighed. "Spencer," he said.

"I think it's really fucked up that I'm the only one who thinks this is a problem," Spencer said.

"Look, we've got three hours until sound check. If he's not back in two hours, _then_ I'll start worrying," Zack said. "You guys are always running off and giving me heart attacks, it's not like this is the first time for me, okay? Let me handle this."

"Fine," Spencer said.

"Spencer's upset because his true love has been lost at sea," Ryan said.

There was a muffled thump, and then Ryan's high-pitched pain noise, which he always insisted was _not_ a girly shriek.

"Shut up," Spencer said. "I'm serious, Ryan, if you—"

"Okay, I'm not saying anything," Ryan said. "Jesus."

"I don't want to know," Zack said.

If Brendon still had a heart, it would have been beating really really fast.

***

"Maybe he ran away and joined the circus," Jon said.

"Maybe he got stolen away by another band," Ryan said.

Jon gasped. "Who would steal our Brendon Urie?"

"Who wouldn't?" Ryan asked. "It's too bad we aren't still touring with The Academy, they'd be my prime suspects."

"They'd have stuffed him under one of the bunks and Sisky would sneak back there every half hour to give him sips of water," Jon said.

The sad part was that The Academy totally did that to Brendon once. He'd been over there drinking the night before, and when he woke up he was eye-to-eye with the dust bunnies under Tom's bunk. Somebody had trussed him up with duct tape and they kept him under there all day, until William decided he'd begged nicely enough and let him go. Brendon hadn't gone back to their bus for a solid two weeks. Looking back it was kind of funny, but at the time he'd been convinced that William (or possibly Mike) had evil plans involving Brendon's cherry ass.

"You're both fucking hilarious," Spencer said. "Stop sitting on my case, Ryan, I need that."

"Your hair looks fine," Ryan said.

"He grooms when he's stressed," Jon said.

"I'm not stressed, I'm _irritated_ because you're both being _jerks_ ," Spencer said. "We've got an hour and a half until sound check and Brendon still isn't back and I don't know how you think we're going to put on a show tonight if he isn't there, he's our _singer_ , in case you've forgotten."

Brendon really hoped they hadn't forgotten.

"Wow," Ryan said.

"Don't," Spencer said. Brendon heard shuffling and then the sound of a door slamming.

"He's, um. He seems kind of pissed," Jon said.

"We've got to find Brendon," Ryan said, like he was only just then realizing that there was a problem. Sometimes Brendon wondered if Ryan was mentally deficient or if he was just so caught up in his own headspace that it always took him a year and a day to figure out what was happening.

"Maybe he's on the techs' bus?" Jon said.

The door opened again. "I forgot my case," Spencer said. Brendon felt himself being lifted into the air. He was totally disoriented and didn't even know where they were on the bus, but he figured Spencer was probably going to hide out in the bathroom again. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a light click on and water start running, and then the zipper opened and there was light! He could see again! Spencer was peering down at him, a deep crease between his eyebrows, and he looked really unhappy. Brendon wished he could comfort him.

It took Spencer like, fifteen minutes to straighten his already really straight hair. Maybe Jon was right about the stress thing. Brendon was getting really tired of being a flat-iron. It was kind of cool to get to listen to everyone else's private conversations, but he'd rather be running around with pre-show nerves and eating the oranges Ryan had bought at a farmer's market and bugging Zack.

Spencer started muttering something that Brendon couldn't hear and left the bathroom, abandoning Brendon there on the countertop. Brendon was still plugged in to the wall and he was worried about electrical currents. What if his circuits overloaded and he died? Spencer would never forgive himself. Brendon was feeling a little quivery, but it was probably just psychosomatic, but then he started feeling _really_ quivery and kind of itchy too, and since he was a flat-iron that probably wasn't a good sign, and then there was a loud popping sound and he was sitting on the counter, hands and feet and hair and all.

"Oh my God," Brendon said. "I'm back!" He wasn't wearing any clothes, but that was just a minor detail. He jumped off the counter and ran through the back lounge into the bunks.

Ryan was sitting on his bed, typing away at his Sidekick. He looked up when Brendon ran in and then covered his eyes with one hand. "Brendon, what the fuck, put some pants on. How the hell were you hiding back there? We've been looking for you all day."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Brendon said. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants so as not to offend Ryan's neo-Victorian sensibilities. The guy acted like he'd never seen a dick before. He acted like he'd never seen _Brendon's_ dick before, which Brendon knew for a fact was completely untrue.

Spencer appeared in the doorway. "Is that—okay, somebody's trying to be funny, how the fuck did you get back on the bus without any of us noticing."

"Uh, funny story," Brendon said. He thought maybe he'd pulled on Jon's pants by mistake, they were too big at the waist and they were kind of falling off his ass. He tried to hike them up without looking like he was groping himself in public. He'd only done that _once_ but Ryan absolutely wouldn't let it go.

Spencer crossed his arms. "We're waiting."

"See, when I woke up this morning, I had turned into your hair straightener," Brendon said. "I spent most of the day in your makeup case. It was really boring."

"It's not a makeup case," Spencer said. "Wait, what? You turned into my—"

"You're an idiot, Urie," Ryan said, voice flat. "You seriously think we're going to believe this?"

"I'm not lying!" Brendon said, indignant. "Spencer sings Queen when he does his hair, and don't try to deny it, Spencer, I totally heard you."

"You could've just heard me through the door," Spencer said.

"Fine, Jon said that maybe I ran away to join the circus, and Ryan said maybe I got stolen by another band," Brendon said. "You guys talk too fucking much. I can't believe you just sat around all afternoon instead of looking for me, what if I was dead in a ditch somewhere?"

"Well, you weren't," Ryan said.

"So you heard everything," Spencer said.

"Yep," Brendon said. "That makeup case isn't exactly soundproof."

"It's not a—oh my God," Spencer said, and covered his face with his hands. "So you, um. Fuck."

"All right, I'm going to sound check," Ryan said, and flounced his way out the door. He was a pretty good flouncer. Brendon admired that in a guy.

Spencer made some sort of moaning noise and like, curled in on himself. He was acting way more melodramatic than the situation called for. Brendon hiked up his pajama pants and said, "Are you going to kiss me or do you just want to flip out for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Door number two," Spencer said, not moving his hands away from his face.

Clearly it was up to Brendon to take charge. He moved closer, close enough to wrap his hands around Spencer's wrists and pull them away from his face, close enough to push up on his toes and lean in and kiss Spencer's unhappy mouth. Then he learned that he was close enough for Spencer to wrap an arm around his waist and tug him in, and wow, that was _really_ close.

Brendon liked it.

Then after a while he really, _really_ liked it.

They were late for sound check.  



End file.
